


Fanged Fatales

by badbreadpuns (AzureMagician)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Driders, F/F, Fluff, Human/Monster Romance, Lamiae, Orcs, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24330904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzureMagician/pseuds/badbreadpuns
Summary: Terrors of the night and the ladies who love them! (F/F monster stories.)
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Original Female Character/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41





	1. Soothing Silk

**Author's Note:**

> These are stories that are too short to be posted on their own. You can skip around, they're unrelated to each other unless noted. One asterisk means it's in third person, two means it's in second. (In case you don't like second person.)
> 
> Ch. 1 - drider x human (Xanthe) *  
> Ch. 2 - lamia x human (Chrysa) **  
> Ch. 3 - orc x orc *  
> Ch. 4 - vampire x human (Helena) **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is a fill for the Monster Kink Meme. (https://monsterkinkmeme.tumblr.com/post/190296243940)

Darkness veils the bedroom, its silence interrupted by rumbling thunder and flashes of white. Raindrops patter onto the window like little bullets. A small form stirs in the bed, under several blankets.

In the corner of the room, between a computer cabinet and a bookcase, is a large web, currently occupied. A drider sleeps in peace. Her skin is pale as bone, flowing hair dark as night. Below her human half, her plump abdomen is golden, her long legs black and yellow.

The young woman in the bed cries out in her sleep. She tosses and turns, rolling up into a ball. Her roommate opens one of her many obsidian eyes.

“Irene? Irene, what’s wrong?”

Descending her web with a _thud_ , she hurries over to her human, grabbing her shoulder and shaking it. “Wake up.”

Irene’s eyes burst open. She jerks up from the bed, saying nothing as tears run down her olive cheeks.

“Don’t cry.” The drider hugs her. “It’s only a nightmare.”

Irene is quiet except for the occasional sob, her breathing heavy.

“Deep breaths, deep breaths… Relax.”

Irene listens. Inhale, exhale. Once her breathing is under control, she speaks.

“Xanthe?”

Xanthe rubs Irene’s face as she calms down. “No need to be afraid.” Her fingers run through her short, chocolate hair. “I’m here.”

Xanthe flicks the switch of the lamp that sits on the nightstand. Its light helps little against the darkness.

“Did you have that nightmare again?”

Irene says nothing, reaching for Xanthe’s hand and squeezing it.

“Want to sleep on my web tonight? I’ll wrap you up.”

“Huh?”

“It’s like, oh, what do you call them? A weighted blanket?”

Xanthe has wrapped her with web during their “activities.” It’s comforting. Could she really fall asleep while ensnared?

“If you think it will help…”

Xanthe is masterful with her silk, though there have been mishaps where she used the wrong web and it had gotten in Irene’s hair. Fresh web falls from Xanthe’s spinnerets onto her hand. She pulls the silk until she has a long thread.

“Lie down, please.”

Irene does as she’s told, lying perfectly still. Xanthe lifts up her legs, wrapping them with the silk. The web twists around her knees, waist, chest. This doesn’t stop until it goes up to her shoulders.

The web constricts, but not uncomfortably so. It’s like a hug from a friend in a comfy sweater. Soft, warm.

“Not too tight, is it?”

Irene shakes her head. “It’s fine.”

Xanthe picks up Irene and sits on her web, swinging back and forth, back and forth. It’s almost like rocking a crib. As she rocks, Xanthe braids Irene’s hair with her slender fingers. Irene’s fear and worry melt away as Xanthe cradles her.

She is warm. Safe. Loved.

“Sleep, my butterfly. Nothing can hurt you.”

The rain, which once drowned out Irene’s sobs, now lulls her to sleep.


	2. Nails and Scales

You miss your girlfriend.

The relationship ended not as an inferno, but as a small light struggling to stay ablaze. It burned longer than you expected, but it went out all the same. You’ve moped on the couch for a week, filling the void in your heart with junk food and TV. What’s something fun you could do?

You look down at your hands. The nails are long, unruly, like talons on a bird of prey. Turning to your phone, you look up nail salons, finding one downtown. They’re open, and they take walk-ins. Getting your nails done should cheer you up, right?

“Nails and Scales” hangs above the door in yellow letters, each S curling like a snake’s tail. Beside the door is another neon sign, a brown hand with long, red nails. Opening the door, you step inside. A handful of snake women turn their gaze towards you as the intoxicating scent of nail polish hits your nose.

“Welcome!” A chipper lamia sits behind the front desk, her auburn hair held up in a ponytail. The desk covers her lower half, but the flash of her fangs when she talks is enough of a giveaway. “What would you like today?”

“A manicure, please.”

“Of course.”

You walk up to the rainbow of polish that hangs on the wall, spending a few minutes looking through the reds, greens, and blues until you find a shade that sticks out. “Right this way, miss.” Her long green tail brushes against your leg as she passes you. Other lamia gossip and laugh among themselves as you follow her to a table. The seat squeaks as you sit.

“Now let’s get a look at those nails.” You hold out your hand, and her grasp is swift, like a frog catching a fly. “What lovely fingers!” She leans in, close enough for you to look into her eyes. They’re emerald green, with a golden ring around the pupil. “So slender.”

Your face warms up. It’s been a while since you’ve received a compliment, especially a sincere one. “Thank you.”

She leans back, letting your hands fall to the table. “We need to work on those nails. They look as sharp as mine!” Giggling at her own joke, she picks up the bottle of nail polish you set on the table. “I love this shade! Reminds me of a gemstone.”

It matches her eyes, doesn’t it?

Taking your hand, she picks up a pair of nail clippers. Snip, snip, snip.

“They look better already.”

She smiles at that, placing the clippers back on the table and picking up a filer, rubbing it against your nails. Its coarse surface shapes them until they are nice and round.

“This green would look stunning with gold.” Slithering to the wall with the nail polish, she picks a bottle from the shelf before coming back to the table. She holds it up to you. “See?”

It’s a warm, sparkly gold, which reminds you of sunlight. “It’s beautiful.”

“I think so too!” She shakes the bottle, placing it next to the other. “The new ‘in’ thing is to paint the ring finger a different color than the others. It will really make you stand out!”

You’re not sure if you want to stand out _that_ much…

“Hold out your hand.”

You do as you’re told, placing your hand on the table. She screws off the top of the green nail polish, starting with your pinky finger. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before. First time here?”

“Yes. I don’t get my nails done often, so I thought I’d check this place out.”

She passes the ring finger, coating your middle finger with green. “We don’t get a lot of human customers. It’s a pleasant change of pace.”

“Really?”

“Didn’t you see all the lamia when you came in?” She giggles, switching to your pointer. “We don’t do a lot of pedicures.”

As you two ramble on, the heartbeat in your ear grows louder. Your heart taps against your chest as if it were behind a door. Does it want out? Or does it want someone to come in?

“How does it look?”

You blink. All your nails except for the ring fingers are green. They sparkle like small emeralds under the lamp on the table.

“I love it!”

“We’re not finished yet.” She picks up the bottle of gold nail polish, unscrewing its top. “Two fingers to go.”

As she brushes a finger, the conversation starts up again. “Any special occasions coming up?”

“Not really. I wanted to get out of the house more than anything.”

She giggles, switching over to the other finger. “Can’t blame you. I hate staying home all day.”

She places the brush back in its bottle. “The heat lamps are near the front.”

You stand up, and she follows you as you walk over to the lamps. She turns on the light as you sit down and lie your hands down under it. The two of you chat a little as you wait for the timer to go off.

You look down at your nails. They sparkle under the sunlight that streams through the front window.

Following her to the front desk, you pay with your credit card, giving her a big tip. Out comes the receipt, but she’s quick to scribble something on the bottom before handing it to you. She smiles, but even with her fangs, she is welcoming. “Come back any time!”

As you walk out of the salon, you read the receipt. She wrote down her phone number.

Looks like you don’t have to wait until your next appointment to see her again.


	3. The Harvest Pie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this for a Halloween gift exchange last year! My giftee wanted orc gfs.

The gentle glow of a roaring flame embraces the small, cozy hut. Before the fireplace, a figure wrapped in a patched-up blanket stirs on a couch made of leather and bone. The chair creaks as she moves, the blanket barely covering her green skin.

A thud comes from the wooden door, then another.

“Hmm?” Her voice is deep. “The children should be back in their beds by now…”

She rises, throwing the blanket aside. She stands at 7’2”, with ivory tusks and malachite hued skin. Her raven plaits flow down her back, and her eyes are orange like the fire. Her feet thump against the floor as she makes her way to the door. As she opens it, the wind slams the door into the wall.

“Howdy, Ziwnka!”

The woman before her is 6’1” (small by orc standards) and chartreuse, with golden eyes full of mirth. A goofy grin graces her face, showing off her teeth and tusks; she would look intimidating to those who did not know her. She holds something behind her back.

“Mienku? Why are you here so late?”

Mienku’s smile droops a little. “What’s wrong? You don’t want company?”

Ziwnka shakes her head. “You’re always welcomed here. It’s just so cold out.” She moves to the side, a small smile forming. “Come on in.”

Mienku chuckles and steps inside, careful not to show what’s behind her back. The taller orc is quick to close the door, not wanting to let in any more of the cold.

“You’re hiding something.” She is stern, like a mother who knows her child is misbehaving.

Mienku snorts. “You’re no fun.” She holds out what is in her hands: a pumpkin pie, still warm.

A gentle gasp escapes Ziwnka’s lips. “I had no idea you could bake!” She takes a deep breath, the heavenly smell pleasing her nose.

“A friend from another village gives me lessons.” She puffs out her chest, clearly proud of her work. “Want a bite?”

Mienku heads for the side of the hut where Ziwnka makes her meals. She places the pie on a table, grabbing for a knife. She slices it into six pieces; three for her, three for her friend. Ziwnka clings to her waist from behind, placing her chin on her shoulder. Her giggle tickles Mienku’s ears.

Mienku grabs a slice and presents it to her love. Ziwnka chomps down, eagerly eating half of the piece. A second bite and the slice disappears. She grabs another slice and dangles it in front of Mienku’s face. She’s a slower eater, nibbling on it instead of gulping it down.

After finishing her piece, Mienku grabs Ziwnka’s hand and guides her to the couch. Ziwnka doesn’t need to be told what to do, lying on the leather.

“Oh?” She giggles. “Hungry for something else?”

A toothy grin is her answer. Mienku’s kisses start at Ziwnka’s collarbone, leading up to her neck, then her cheek, until finally meeting her lips. Both of them taste of pumpkin and cinnamon. Mienku is the one to break away.

“What if the pie gets cold?”

“Don't worry about it,” Ziwnka coos, before pulling her smaller friend to her chest. Her fingers twirl through her auburn hair.

“The pie won’t be the tastiest thing I will have tonight.”


	4. The Vampire’s Favor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s my fic for this year’s Halloween gift exchange! Writing a vampire was intimidating. ^^;;

The dark figure of a manor rises into the sky, looking over the village.

No one stirs in the house on the hill. The townsfolk murmur about what goes on beyond those walls, what forbidden rituals take place. Among the rumors, there is one that calls to you: if a young woman enters the manor on the night of a full moon, the owner of the manor will grant her a wish. Few are brave enough to find out if it is true, but you need a miracle.

You walk up the winding path under the light of the moon, the cold gnawing at your skin like a frenzied wolf. The night is quiet, the only noise the shrill cry of a bat. As the manor comes into view, a light shines through the darkness. A lone candle sits in a lower story window, guiding you towards the house.

Rose vines climb up the front of the manor, the crimson flowers a splash of color against deep ebony. A golden lion head with a ring in its mouth sits on a black door. You grab the ring, knocking it against the wood.

After a moment of waiting, the door opens. Behind it is a maid dressed in delicate frills. She pushes up her glasses as she appraises you.

“Good evening, Miss. Are you here to speak with the Mistress?”

“I am.” At least, you suppose you are.

“Please come inside. You must be cold.”

The maid moves to the side, and you step into the manor. Dim lanterns line the walls of the hallway, lighting your path as you follow your guide further into the manor. She takes you into a den, and the warmth of a roaring fire embraces you, washing away the chill of the night.

“Please take a seat, Miss.”

In front of the fireplace is a sofa and tea table. You sit down, sinking into the soft cushion. Lying back in the chair, you let your worries drift away as the crackling fire fills your ears.

“Let me bring you refreshments.”

She steps out of the room, into a hallway. As you wait for her to return, your eyes cross the paintings on the walls. It strikes you as odd that there are no family portraits. Does the Mistress live alone?

Soft footsteps interrupt your thoughts. The maid returns, tray of tea and biscuits in hand. She places it on the table, grabbing a teapot. Warm tea flows from its spout into a waiting cup. Steam hits your face as you bring the cup to your lips.

“Mistress will meet you soon.”

A small smile is her goodbye as she leaves once again. Left alone, you wonder if you waltzed into a woman’s estate over a silly rumor. But the maid invited you in; it would be rude not to meet her, right?

You munch on the biscuits as you wait, watching the fireplace. They’re a delight. As you grab for the last bite, a tall figure enters the den. Turning to her, you take in her form.

Obsidian locks flow down her back, contrasting against marble skin. Plump, garnet red lips purse into a smirk, striking scarlet eyes peering into yours. Her dress is black like the night sky, as if she walked out of a funeral home.

“Good evening, Miss…?”

Her voice is rich like dark chocolate, her words melting in your ears. You tell the mysterious woman your name.

“How lovely.” Her smile grows, showing off dangerous fangs. “Have you come to my home for a favor?”

You nod.

“Women as beautiful as you require my help the most. What is his name?”

You blink. “How did you know?”

“It is always a man. I will get rid of him, if you tell me…”

“Joseph.”

“Ah, yes. An aggressive sort, that one.”

“You will help me?”

“Of course, love.”

Relief pushes aside worry. “Oh, thank you! How may I repay you?”

She approaches, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. Her lips caress your neck, fangs grazing against soft skin. A chill pierces you like a knife to the heart.

“You are a _delicious_ little morsel.”

Morsel?

Before the word sinks in, she whispers in your ear. “May I have a kiss?”

Her scent is intoxicating, reminding you of a delectable pomegranate. “You don’t want to eat me?”

A giggle rumbles deep in her chest. “My, why would I hurt such a cute little thing? Do you think of me as a monster?”

She’s scary, but enticing. Beautiful yet deadly, like a snake ready to strike. “Of course not.”

Leaning in, you close your eyes. Her lips meet yours. Melting into the kiss, you get lost in her.

You could spend an eternity like this.

She is the one to pull away. You pout, missing her touch. Strong fingers run through your hair, a soft smile gracing her face.

“A wonderful payment. Thank you.”

“So you will-?”

“He will be gone by sunrise.”

Tears mist up your vision, falling down your cheek. “Thank you. Thank you!”

“What good would my power be if I did not use it?”

The maid returns, shyly waiting in a doorway. “Good evening, Mistress.”

“Clara! Excellent timing. My guest was about to leave.”

You frown. “Can’t I stay a little longer?”

“I would love for you to, but I have business to attend to.” She winks. “You are free to return.”

As Clara escorts you out, the Mistress gives you a friendly wave goodbye. You return to the village and its empty streets. Sleep comes easily to you, and the mystery woman visits your dreams.

The next morning, you awake to confused villagers. Joseph was not in his bed. Confusion soon turns into disinterest; they conclude that he wandered off in the night, to bother another village. But you know the truth.

He will torment you no more.


End file.
